Lawman from Nogales (9781101544747) (9 page)

Sonora Charlie Ring and Clyde Jilson had ridden a few feet behind Hector Pasada all the way back to Wild Roses. Knowing that Clyde Jilson was behind him made Hector's skin crawl. He couldn't wait to get away from these two madmen. Theirs was not the action of normal men, of that much he was certain.

He thought of what had happened last night while he dried his trousers by the fire. The thought of it caused his anger to rise again. It took everything inside him to keep from turning in his saddle and emptying the shotgun into Clyde Jilson's face. But he managed to ride on in silence. Soon this would be over. He'd have done the job Defoe sent him to do, he told himself, nudging his horse on toward Wild Roses.

By the time the three rode onto the main street of Wild Roses, a thin line of sunlight wreathed the jagged horizon in the east. Three-Hand Defoe stood on the low boardwalk out in front of the Perros Malos Cantina. A cigar hung from the forked fingers of his real right hand; a cup of coffee steamed in his left. Beside him three doves lounged with steaming coffee of their own.

“Hopper,” Defoe said to the dove nearest him, “go tell old Margo we've got three more coming for chuck.”

As the three rode up and stopped in front of him, Defoe had handed his cup of coffee to Sidel Tereze and stood with his right hand inside his coat on the butt of his pistol. Even to people who knew him, it was hard to tell if the arm at his right side was real or artificial—which of course was his whole intent, he thought with a faint smile.

“You made better time than I anticipated,” he said up to Sonora Charlie.

“We were headed this way anyway,” Sonora Charlie replied. “We came upon Wet
Hector
camped out along the trail.”

“Wet Hector?” said Defoe, his cigar still in the forked fingers of his left hand. He eyed Hector as he spoke.

“Yeah,” said Sonora Charlie. He chuckled. “We scared him so bad he pissed himself.”

“Just like a young schoolgirl might do,” Clyde Jilson put in. He gave Hector a wide grin.

Hector gritted his teeth, fighting himself to keep from grabbing up the shotgun and killing them both.

“Pissed his britches . . . ,” Defoe chuffed in disgust. He shook his head and turned back to Sonora Charlie. “There's a hot breakfast around back for you.”

“Obliged,” said Sonora Charlie. “While we eat, you can tell Clyde and me what you want us to do, and why you're in such a hurry for us to do it.”

“Will do,” said Defoe, ushering them with an arm toward the rear of the cantina. Turning to Hector, he flipped a coin up to him. “Good work,
muchacho.
”

Boy? He calls me a boy?
Hector raged in silence. Containing himself, he looked at the gold coin in his palm.

“
Gracias
,” he replied cordially. “If it's all the same with you, boss, I will go visit my woman while her father is driving cattle to Mexico City.” His fist closed tight around the gold coin.

“Yeah, go on, Hector,” said Defoe. “But get back here as soon as you've uncrossed your eyes. I need you on the job here.”

“Tending bar?” Hector asked hopefully.

“Among other things,” said Defoe.

Hector's chest swelled a little. He was taking over Freddie Loopy's job.
Thanks to the holy saints!

“Yes, boss, I will hurry,” Hector said, already turning his tired horse toward the far end of town.

Defoe and the two gunmen watched as Hector rode away.

“Where'd you find that squirrel?” Sonora Charlie asked Defoe. He and Clyde swung down from their horse and led them around the side of the cantina as he spoke.

“Didn't he tell you?” said Defoe. “Freddie Loopy is dead. Hector is the only man I had handy that I could send out to get you.”

“Is he going to be taking Freddie's place, working for you?” Sonora Charlie asked.

“I need a gunman who can protect my interests,” said Defoe. “Hector is all right to carry messages and whatnot, but he's high-strung like a cat. Too much to ever make a gunman. He would get jittery and shoot his toes off.”

“Can we have him?” Clyde Jilson asked Sonora Charlie with a dark chuckle.

“What do you two want with him?” Defoe asked as they approached a long table set out for breakfast.

“I don't want
anything
with him,” Sonora Charlie said flatly, “but Clyde wants him. He likes him.”

“I like having fun with him,” Clyde said with a wide grin.

Defoe just looked at the two. He pulled out a chair at the head of the table and sat down.

“Is that all right with you, Three-Hand?” Clyde asked.

Defoe gave a shrug and said, “If he wants to go with you two, it means nothing to me. Mexicans are a dime for a dozen in Mexico.”

“But I'm thinking you could tell him he
has
to go with us,” Clyde said, “in case he doesn't want to.”

“Whoa, hold on, Clyde,” said Charlie. “Let's hear who it is Henri wants us to
assass-inate.
We might take Wet Hector as part of the deal.”

Defoe waited until an aging dove with a white cloudy eye and a missing ear ambled over from a smoking
chiminea
carrying a platter of sizzling meat and a large bowl of beans and peppers. She set the food on the table and ambled away.

“I want to hire you to kill a man for me and for the Torres brothers.”

“Oh?” Sonora Charlie eyed him closely. “Teto and Luis are with you on this?”

“Of course they are
with
me,” said Defoe. “Do you think I would use their names if they were not?”

“Who do you—I mean
they
want us to kill?” Sonora Charlie asked. Cutting a bite of steak with a sharp knife from his boot well, he shoved the sizzling piece of meat into his mouth and chewed it vigorously.

“The lawman from Nogales who is causing such trouble for everyone,” Defoe said. “His name is Burrack. He is a Territory Ranger from Arizona. He rode out of here with a young Irish woman, headed south.”

Sonora Charlie stopped chewing. So did Clyde, following his lead.

“You're talking about Samuel Burrack,” said Sonara Charlie, “the sumbitch who killed Junior Lake and his pa.”

“His whole gang,” Clyde put in.

“Does that bother you?” Defoe asked.

“Nope. Does paying double bother you?” Sonora Charlie countered. “'Cause that's what it'll cost for this Ranger's demise.”

“Yep, twice as much for the Ranger,” Clyde put in.

“Twice
what
amount?” Defoe asked.

Sonora stared at him as he began chewing again. He took his time swallowing his food.

“The Torres brothers know my price,” he said. “Just double it.”

“And give us Hector,” Clyde cut in.

Defoe looked back and forth between the two wild-eyed gunmen for a moment.

“I saw a wooden gun case tucked under his bedroll. Does it matter if he's packing a long-shooting rifle?”

“Nope.” Sonora Charlie shook his head.

“Can we count on quick work from you?” Defoe asked.

“Dig a hole,” Sonora Charlie said.

 

Three miles outside Wild Roses, Hector Pasada stepped down from his horse and spun its reins around a hitch post out in front of a small dusty adobe. He leaned the shotgun against the post. Across a rocky yard, a skinny goat looked at him and let out a long bleat.

At the sound, a young boy peered out the window. Seeing Hector, he bounced down barefoot into the yard and ran to him in a rising puff of dust.

“
Papá
is home!
Mamá! Mamá! Papá
is home!” the boy shouted as he ran.

“Pequeño hombre!”
Hector called out as the excited child bounded through the dirt and leaped into the air.

Hector caught the boy and swung in a full circle with the child pressed tightly in his arms.

When he looked at the doorway and saw the young dark-haired woman staring out at him, he set the boy down.

“Ana!” Hector called out as he hurried toward the woman, a broad smile spread across his face. “It is about time I have come home to you, eh?”

She accepted his kiss on her cheek coolly. Staring into his eyes, she said flatly, “I have prayed that you were not dead, shot down by one of the
criminales
you now call your amigos.”

“Por favor, Ana,”
Hector said. “They are not my amigos
.
But they are who I must be with when I am gone to make a living for you and my son.”

At their sides, the boy hugged both Hector's and his mother's leg with both small arms. Ana Pasada looked down at the boy, then back up at Hector, expectantly.

“
Sí
, look what I have made working for the Frenchman!” He pulled out the gold coin. “Enough for flour and frijoles and perhaps even—”

“Hector!” Ana Pasada cut him off, gasping at the sight of the gold coin glittering in her husband's hand. With a hand to her mouth she said in a hushed tone, “Who pays a man this much money? What did you have to do to earn it?”

“These
Americanos
pay well, Ana,” Hector said. Pressing the coin into her free hand, he added, “And do not worry, I have broken no law. I only delivered a message for the Frenchman, Defoe.” He held her close.

She smiled intently at the glittering coin as she turned it in her small hand, as if it were her salvation.

“These gringos who have come to our border lands bring so much money,” Hector said. “They throw it around like a handful of sand. I will take all of it I can get, for you, and for our
hijo.
” He placed his hand down on the boy's head.

“But the Frenchman, the Torres brothers, the Gun Killers, are they not all lawbreakers, desperados, thieves, murderers?” Ana asked.

“Look at me, Ana,” Hector said. “If I must break laws to put food in our mouths, to keep us alive, who will judge me. God? Man? I don't know. But if a law starves a man and his wife, what kind of man will live by that law?”

“These men ride both sides of the border, robbing and killing,” Ana said. “Will you cross the border with them when that time comes?” She stared into his dark eyes, the coin still in her palm.

Hector closed her hand over the coin and said quietly, “I must go back to the cantina now. When I am gone, take the boy and walk to the old store at the edge of town where this one will not see me and call out to me.” He looked down at the boy's large dark eyes and smiled.

Ana said, “It is not good that a man must keep his wife and son a secret because he is afraid of what his
compañeros
will think of him.”

“You are right it is not good,” Hector said. “But for now it is how things must be. I do what I
must
do
,
to keep us fed.”

“
Sí
, to keep us fed. Life is hard for the poor, isn't it?” she said.

“It will not always be so,” Hector said. “I swear by the saints that someday I will take this world in my fists and make it my own.” He clenched his fists tight as he spoke.

“
Sí
, someday,” Ana said with finality, and she looked away toward the distant hills, as if they held a secret for her.

Chapter 10

Hector watered his horse at a small trough and kissed Ana good-bye, pulling both her and his son in to his chest.

“This time I will be gone a little longer,” he said. “But when I come home, I will have more money for us.” He tapped the side of his head with a finger and said, “I will make Defoe see the value of having me as his right-hand man.”

“Oh? And what will you be doing for the Frenchman?” Ana asked.

“I will start by tending bar at the Perros Malos Cantina, but I am prepared to do whatever the Frenchman will have me do for him,” Hector said, the shotgun hanging in his hand now that he was ready to mount up and ride.

“The Perros Malos,” she said with contempt. “What sort of man names his cantina that?”

“A loco man, that's what kind.” Hector gave a tired smile and said, “But for now, I work for him. His Bad Dogs are my Bad Dogs, eh?”

Ana managed a thin smile and pushed a strand of hair from her face.

“Tell me, husband, do the
putas
at the Bad Dogs Cantina offer themselves to you?”

“Now that I am the bartender, of course they will offer themselves to me,” Hector said. “But I will turn them down.”

“Are you sure?” Ana asked.

“The day that I cannot look you or my son in the eye, you will know that I have taken what the
putas
offer me,” Hector said. “But that is enough talk,” he added. “Now I must go to work.”